American Regression
by TaintedLaughter
Summary: What happens when one of the worlds super powers is converted to nothing more than an infant?
1. Chapter 1

_ "Mattie, why aren't you picking up? Call me ASAP."_

_** beep**_

_ "Dude, c'mon. Pick uuuppppp"_

_** beep**_

_ "MATTTIIIEEEEEE"_

_** beep**_

_** "**__Bro, this is really important. Pick up"_

_** beep**_

_** "**__Matthew, you dick. Get off your maple guzzling ass and pick up the damn phone!"_

_** beep**_

_ "I'm freaking out here, man! Call me back!"_

_** beep**_

The Canadian stared down dumbly at his answering machine, the red number seventeen flickering repeatedly on the display screen, each one having been left by his somewhat hysteric brother. He'd paused, one arm partially out of the sleeve of his favorite jacket when by the third message he'd stopped all movement, trying to figure out wether or not the messages were to be taken seriously. With an indulgent exhale, Matthew moved away from the machine, tossing his jacket over the back of one kitchen chair before sitting down heavily into it. _The dumbass probably just got scared watching some horror movie again..._

With this thought in mind, Matthew leaned forward in his seat, one elbow on the mahogany table as he fished around in his back pocket for his cellphone. He'd been out at an important meeting since early morning and hadn't bothered to turn his cellphone back on after it had been opened. Sure enough when he turned it on, after waiting for the loading screen to finish, his phone began to vibrate as if caught in the middle of an earthquake, becoming bombarded with missed call after missed call and plenty of voicemails.

"Damnit, Al..."

Deciding to get this over with and attempt getting in contact with his irksome sibling, Matthew pressed the 'callback' button and raised the phone to his ear, settling back into his seat as the ringing began.

_ "Hey! You've reached the hero! I'm busy at the moment, so call back later~!"_

The blonde Canadian growled softly as he ran his free hand up through his hair, gripping it slightly as he hung up, not bothing to leave a message to the answering machine. Tossing his phone onto the table, Matthew stood before exiting the kitchen, turning the light off as he did. It was time he get some shut eye after this long day. Deciding he'd take the time to call his brother in the morning, the blonde retired to his bedroom for some much needed sleep.

* * *

One hand stuffed into the front pocket of his red hoodie, Matthew knocked for a third time on the front door of the residence of the personification of the United States of America. Silence, same as the first few times.

Earlier that morning, the Canadian had attempted to call his brother numerous times before a bit of worry began to settle in. If Alfred wasn't in some amount of perilous danger, he swore he'd punch him in the face.

Giving up on knocking, Matthew reached up and ran his hand over the top of the doorframe, fingers wrapping around the key that was kept there. Jamming it into the lock, the blonde soon passed over the treshhold, leaving the door open behind him. "Alfred...?" He called out into the house, proceeding past the entryway and into the kitchen. He could faintly hear the television blaring from the livingroom, but there was something louder than that, nearly drowned out by the obnoxious pop channel playing, but not quite. Fearing the worse, Matthew nearly ran into the livingroom, skidding to a halt just before his sneakers reached the carpeted area. It then became clear just what the sound had been.

Paling considerably, the Canadian slowly went over to the bundle of clothes near the middle of the room, spotting America's bomber jacket almost immediately. Kneeling down, Matthew emitted a shaky exhale as he looked into the pink, wailing face of a child that couldn't have been more than 8 months old. Tuffs of wheat blonde hair covered the baby's head, it's eyes screwed tightly shut and its small hands clenched into just as tight fists.

"Oh god, Al..." Matthew groaned, feeling his heart drop down low into his stomach, "What have you done...?"

* * *

"Shh...c'mon. You don't need to fuss..." Matthew murmured softly to the still faintly wailing bundle. After his initial few minutes of panic, the Canadian had managed to wrap the child firmly in one of the articles of clothing from the pile, a white shirt to be specific.

Cradling the child a little closer to himself in hopes of giving off some sense of comfort, Matthew racked his mind for possibilities as to how this could have possibly happened.

All ended with a completely implausible notion.

Exhaling, the Canadian smiled faintly at the wriggling bundle in his arms, hoping the boy would hopefully feed off of his calming aura...or some desperate thinking process like that. Bless the gods of all things maple, the baby began to settle down, staring up at the other with large eyes so blue that Matthew swore he'd recognize them nearly anywhere. "Alright, Al...wanna tell me what happened..?" He murmured as he leaned close enough to almost touch the tip of the baby's small button nose with his own. Of course, he only received a gurgle in reply as the baby's face split into a pleased, one-toothed grin.

"Thought so..." Slowly standing from the couch once more, Matthew carried the tiny American into the kitchen, trying to keep his thoughts as calm and collective as possible. He would definitely need to get supplies while figuring all of this out...but how was he supposed to get to a store whilst Alfred was in this condition? He didn't have any clothes, or even diapers to put on the newly regressed nation.

Ah, maple...How was the government going to respond to this?

It would take a bit of time for them to notice, to be sure, but even then they would demand something be done about this. But surely they would be alright without the personification of their nation for a bit of time...right..?

Probably not.

But until they could get this all figured out, Matthew refused to even consider leaving Alfred in the care of the regressed nation's government officials. It just didn't feel right. Besides, who knew what risky procedures they'd go through in an attempt to return the American to his rightful age? With a small shake of his head, Canada used one finger to gently stroke the smooth, cherub cheek, taking all of this surprisingly well. It wouldn't be the first time that something bizarre had occurred to his brother, but this definitely took the cake. Vaguely, he wondered if perhaps Tony had been the cause of this, having not seen hide nor hair of the alien creature since entering the dwelling.

Should he call England, or possibly France? Countries would be expected to arrive as early as tomorrow to book hotels and whatnot before eventually attending one of the scheduled world meetings...this one hosted by America. Thankfully, the meeting was still a few days away. Maybe he should find out which hotel one of them was staying at and approach them...as carefully as possible, lest one have a possible heart attack. Abruptly, Matthew was pulled out of his thoughts as he heard a faint sound, like the coo of a dove, as his finger was firmly taken hostage in the baby's tiny hand. The baby then seemed to attempt nomming on the side of the captive finger, making a few almost frustrated sounds in the process.

Smiling faintly, Matthew slowly stood, making his way where he knew Alfred's bedroom to be. Promptly, he began to use his best judgement to swaddle the baby in a blanket in an attempt to stifle his movements. Desperately, he hoped that all went well as he returned his babified brother to the living room, setting him down on his back where he'd originally found him. The smile had left him at this point, overtaken by a worried furrow of brows and faint frown, "I'll be right back, Alfie..." As he stood, he watched as the baby's face seemed to take on the closest thing to confusion it could muster before his lower lip began to quiver. With a few, loud whimpers, Alfie had set to wriggling about in his confines, large blue eyes starting to quickly well up with tears.

Already, Matthew could feel a slight pang in his chest as he fought the extremely strong urge to pick up the child once more and cradle him close until the whimpers faded away. But he had to go and procure much needed supplies that would help pass the day until he could seek help from his two parental figures. Quickly, the Canadian turned and left the American home, walking briskly to his car. From his fairly frequent visits he knew that there was a decently sized shopping center not too far from the house that hopefully had a store in which he could find the needed items.

* * *

Too long. He'd spent way too much time away from the house. Admittedly, it was only 20 minutes, but Canada felt that was far too long to leave his baby brother unattended. Knuckles tinting white from the tight grip he had on the steering wheel, Matthew jerked said wheel to the right slightly as he pulled up into the driveway. Exhaling, he left the car and removed the ten plastic bags from the backseat, determined to take them all in one trip. Which wasn't difficult considering he was one of the largest nations in the world. Sliding the handles down so that nearly every bag hung off his right arm, Matthew hurried up the walkway and steps, curl bouncing slightly with each step.

Getting the door open, he made his way through the kitchen, hastily setting the bags on the table before continuing into the living room. It had become obvious the moment that he'd opened the front door that Alfie was shrieking up a storm, sobs echoing around the otherwise quiet house. Emitting a sigh of relief that the child appeared otherwise unharmed, he carefully picked up the still swaddled baby boy. "Shhh~" he murmured, careful to support the American's head as he cradled him close, bringing him into the kitchen as he waited for the crying to subside. Alfie's face had tinted a light red, although it was slowly fading even as his small hands remained in two, tense fists. "There, There..." Matthew murmured, slowly setting the baby down in the center of the kitchen table, surrounded by the white, semi-see through plastic bags.

Tears shined faintly on the American's faintly pink cheeks, an occasional hiccup echoing from the boy's tiny mouth. However, his large, bright blue eyes seemed to now be completely focused on the bags around him, one curled up fist relaxing as he reached up, babbling softly as he grasped onto it. With a faint smile, Matthew rummaged through one of the bags until he retrieved a diaper from one of the plastic cases, making quick work of unwrapping Alfred from his blanket cocoon and fitting the diaper onto him. The Canadian couldn't fathom how in some comedy shows, men were usually portrayed as unable to secure a simple diaper onto a child. With the two pieces of tape on each side, he figured it was fairly self explanatory.

Next came the clothing. After a few more seconds of rummaging, Matthew pulled out a white onesie with grey sleeves and border. In the center there was an equally grey anchor, above that was the word 'Captain' and below the anchor was the word 'Cutie'. Both words in blue. Of course, the moment he began to attempt dressing the boy, Alfred began to flail his legs slightly, making a series of noises that seemed fairly excited. "C'mon, Al..." Matthew muttered, gently pinning the baby's legs in place as he pressed the three buttons into place with a satisfying 'snap' sound.

Satisfied, the Canadian smiled gently as he carefully picked up the child once more, holding him against his left shoulder so that Alfred's face rested against it. He'd once again set to babbling, most likely transferring a good bit of drool in the process onto Matthew's shirt.

"Let's get you something to eat, eh?"

* * *

**A/N: Ah, please leave a review if you'd like for me to continue~ I'm fairly open to suggestions :)**


	2. Chapter 2

_Oh! Oh goodness! Thank you oh so very much for all the lovely reviews! It really does make me update faster and I just absolutely adore knowing that people are enjoying the story. I'll try to set a personal goal for myself to update after every certain amount of reviews. Thank you for the motivation. Depending on how things go, you may get another chapter soon enough._

* * *

Things...Most definitely could have been going better.

Currently, Mathew sat on the floor in the living room with his back pressed firmly against the couch. Propped up slightly on his crossed legs was his brother, the child's cherub cheeks stained with a bright orange from the splattered substance. Thankfully, he'd thought to put a bib on the little American, which prevented his clothes from being too harshly victimized by what had transpired. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for Canada's attire. His simple red hoodie, somewhat a favorite of his, was now covered in quite a bit of orange, along with his left cheek and he could only hope that none had gotten into his hair. And things had started off so well...

He had opened up not one, but two jars of baby food. One of what looked to be some sort of applesauce, and the other a carrot based mixture. Mattie had decided that he would give the baby at least half applesauce, and then as much carrot as the child wanted. Using one hand to help support Alfred's back a little, the Canadian had made a divot in the small jar of applesauce by use of an almost comically tiny spoon. Holding the spoon up to the boy's lips, he watched with a smile as Alfred's eyes became a bit larger and he leaned forward, opening his mouth and closing it firmly around the spoonful of mush. A fairly pleased sound could be heard coming from the baby, only to be silenced as Matthew slid the spoon away to scoop up a bit more. This time when brought back to the child's mouth, Alfred had missed the spoon slightly in his excitement, getting more of it around his mouth than anything. The Canadian couldn't help but chuckle, using the spoon to collect the bit of spillover and deposit it dutifully into the baby's mouth.

Dutifully ferrying the sweet mush into the child's mouth, Matthew hadn't been able to help but smile even further. He most definitely saw the appeal in his brother appearing much more bearable and easier to manage than when he was an adult...well, that was before they got to the carrot and all of hell seemed to of been unleashed.

Simply put, Alfred wanted no part in it, resulting in the Canadian's current state of messy massacre. The baby had shrieked and flailed, using a surprising amount of strength in his movements. But now it appeared he was calm, babbling contentedly around a mush covered fist as he stared up at Matthew, eyes a little wider than usual, as if proclaiming innocence to anything that had transpired. Finding himself unable to get too irritated, the Canadian found himself giving a soft, exasperated smile as he let the small spoon clunk into one of the empty jars. "Naughty, Al...already a troublemaker." he spoke softly to his brother, who replied by giggling and squirming about, pressing his tiny bare feet against Matthew leg and pushing, as if attempting to propel himself onto the carpeted ground. "Nu uh.." Canada chuckled, slowly standing with the boy cradled against him, preventing the youngling's obvious desire to explore. "Should get you all cleaned up first, eh?"

Making his way into the kitchen, the elder of the two went over to the sink, setting Alfred down on the granite countertop and placing a steadying hand on the boy's back to help him sit up. Reaching over with his free hand, he plucked up a pastel orange dishcloth, dampening it before quickly setting to cleaning the young American's face.

"Ba!"

The sound of protest of course came from the child, who had set to fussing, nose crinkling as his hands clenched into small fists and he leaned back, attempting to move out of range of the unpleasant cloth. "Bhhh guh!" Trying to keep the baby from toppling off the counter, Matthew thankfully held quite a bit more power than that of a possibly eight or nine month old. "shhh..." the Canadian attempted to sooth, ignoring what sounded to be angry baby babbling coming from the infant and instead firmly continuing to remove the splattered food from Alfred's cheeks. "There..."

If possible, his now extremely younger brother looked fairly cross with him over what had just transpired...which Matthew simply found adorable in quite a few aspects. "C'mon, grumpy butt." Picking him up once more, Canada poked the baby's slightly chubby cheek as he made his way to his brother's bedroom, laying said sibling down onto the bed. He then went about rummaging around the contents of a few dressers before removing a simple long-sleeved shirt of a dark blue hue. Because of the similar build he shared with Alfred, granted being the bigger country, the shirt fit well enough. By the time he turned back around, he saw that Alfie had managed to roll over onto his stomach...before promtly falling asleep. With a soft smile and confident that the little one wouldn't be rolling off the bed anytime soon, the Canadian left the room for a few moments to take care of some things. He then returned and it didn't take long for him to gently position the infant so that he could protectively hold him as he fell asleep. It was already fairly late, Matthew having arrived at the house around six, and it seemed both were content to sleep till morning.

* * *

Matthew exhaled softly as he readied himself to make the call, leaning forward in the driver's seat of his car in order to go through the contacts list instilled in the built in touchscreen. He gave it a moment to load and connect via his blackberry, which was cradled in one of the cup holders. Finger hovering over the desired name, the Canadian hesitated for nearly the fifth time as he glanced over his shoulder to look at his now tiny brother. Just thirty minutes prior, he'd removed one of the larger boxes he'd left in his trunk from his trip to the baby store, setting up the car seat with just a bit of difficulty. The true struggle had been getting Alfred to stop fussing long enough to strap the child in; although it became easier once he'd nearly swaddled the boy in a blanket of soft blue and introduced a few plastic blocks. Which the child was attempting to currently nom on...

Shaking his head, Matthew turned his attention back to the screen and cautiously pressed the intended contact. Heart hammering away in his chest, the Canadian shifted the car into drive and added pressure to the gas petal as he waited for the ringing to end. After just a few moments, a voice echoed around the car, causing the child in the backseat to glance up from his previous focus of nomming on the plastic toy.

"'ello...?"

"England...? It's Canada...I-I...er...I need to know wh-"

"Who..?"

There was a moment of silence as Matthew instinctively glared in the direction of the panel, turning down onto one street, diligently gaining distance from America's home.

"That joke went stale over thirty years ago, Arthur..." responded the Canadian dryly, turning his gaze back to the road. There was then an immediate chuckle that reverberated from the speakers.

"Calm down, Lad. It's simply far too tempting on occasion...Now then, are you alright?"

Canada felt his lips quirk slightly as his view remained on the road. Not that Arthur would ever admit it, but Matthew and a few others knew that the man could be quite the mother hen without even realizing it.

"I'm Fine...I just need to know which hotel you and Francis are staying at for the upcoming meeting..."

There was a pause on England's side, although it didn't last long. "And what makes you think i'd know where that bloody frog is staying...!?"

Matthew slowly shook his head, hoping that the two hadn't had one of their usual falling outs. He could practically hear the sneer present in the Englishman's voice. "Dad..." the Canadian murmured softly, trying to let the other know just how important it was that he procure the information quickly.

Apparently, it worked. After a much longer pause than previously, Arthur huffed, seeming to catch on that time was of the essence. "We're at the Westing New York Grand Central..." he responded tersely, "Room 203 and 204.."

Matthew emitted a faint sound, along that of a sigh, glad that he was headed in the right direction. He also took that to mean that Arthur and Francis had conjoint rooms, as they were prone to do on occasion...not that a certain Englishman would ever admit to it. "Thanks, Arthur. I need to see the both of you so I should be there soon..." he trailed off, hesitance creeping into his voice. He didn't want to completely blind side them with the information concerning Alfred...but how could he possibly prepare them without Arthur going into a tizzy? "Ah...o-one more thing...eh...While I'm fine...Alfred sort of..i-isn't...So i'm bringing him with m-"

_"What?!"_

The Briton's shout seemed to almost vibrate throughout the vehicle, demanding to be answered. Unfortunately, the answer it received came in the form of a piercing wail coming from the backseat. The loud sound from Arthur had managed to startle the deaged American, who jolted at the noise before his lower lip began to tremble, tears not far behind before the crying started.

_"What's that?!"_ the Englishman's voice demanded just a second later, just as shrill but twisted with a bit of confusion, "_Matthew! Who's cr-"_

_"_Please just don't freakout WhenWeGetThereOkayBye!" The Canadian lurched forward in his seat in his eagerness to press the end call button, cutting the other off, desperation overriding his usual Canadian politeness.

Trying to mentally recall the exact way to the named hotel, Matthew sighed as he took a glance into the rearview mirror, staring at the still wailing American. The child's face had tinted a light pink, hands clenched into little fists around the fuzzy blue blanket as he sobbed. With his infant mentality, the boy probably had no clue why he was still crying. Giving a soft exhale of resignation, the maple loving blonde was forced to pull over to the side of the road and console the distraught American until he'd calmed down enough for Matthew to resume driving.

Some time later, having finally managed to squish his car into a spot along the curb amoungst the crowded city street, Matthew found himself half leaning into the backseat of the car as he double checked over the contents of the diaper bag he'd been sure to fully stock. The bag itself was a pale green with equally light blue flaps and swirling designs along the lines of lady bugs, dragonflies, and butterflies. There were numerous compartments, including pouches on either side to hold capped baby bottles and the like.

Once satisfied, the Canadian swung the bag over his shoulder and leaned in once more, carefully removing the enthusiastically babbling American from his car seat and fixing the blanket that was wrapped around him. Locking the car door, Matthew held Alfred close as he made his way down the street in the direction of the hotel. The sooner he got this over with, the better. "Ah, Maple..." he mumbled as he curled the tiny American closer to himself in order to protect him from the biting wind. It was fall, and so the weather had managed to become a tad nippy as of late. Exhaling loudly, he watched as a small bit of frosted air puffed out as a result. Damn. Thankfully, he soon entered the destined hotel, the large sign making it hard to miss as he went about carefully not bumping into anyone walking about. He'd admit that the city had _some_ appealing aspects...but it was just so very crowded.

Bouncing the American enough to earn an immensely please giggle, Matthew felt his smile grow at the absolutely innocent look on the younger's face. Taking a breath, he made quick work of figuring out which floor Francis and Arthur's rooms would be on, mentally preparing himself for what he would say.

Hopefully all this would go well...

* * *

**A/N:**

_I'm sorry if it's not that long. I try to make them at least more than 2,000 words, which is easier said than done._

_Anywho~ Hope you enjoyed. Also, I have another fic in the making that has more of a hogwarts theme as well as FACE family. Plenty of fluff to come from that. So if you want to check it out, just click my profile. _


	3. Chapter 3

(( oh gosh. I would have had this up literally a month ago, but I've been patiently waiting for /one/ more review. And that occurred just a little bit ago. I said in the last chapter that I would wait for a certain number of reviews, definitely a low and easy number, before updating. So here we go~! ))

* * *

"What?!"

"Calm do-"

"NO!"

"Cher, just liste-"

"Piss off, Francis!" The Englishman bit out angrily as he once more shoved the other away from himself, "Matthew and Alfred should be here soon enough and I wanted to ask them if they wanted to attend dinner with us."

"I understa-"

"Oh, Obviously you don't! Because I planned on giving Matthew _this_-" Here Arthur gestured sharply to a pale red, nearly pink, sweater that rested on the back of one of the rooms armchairs. It was obviously handmade...in a sense that no store could possible make something so utterly and heartwarmingly tacky. It was decorated in sewn mittens and had almost pastel colored patterns making their rounds about. A christmas tree was dead center, where in place of ornaments there were little maple leaves. The only thing that seemed out-of-place on the garish bit of holiday fabric was the large, dark stain that took on an almost purple hue when introduced to the pale material. "- and Alfred his afterwards so that I wouldn't chance forgetting! That way they'll both have something appropriate to wear when they visit this holiday!"

Staring at his love's pink face, tinted from the energy in which he used to nearly shriek these words, Francis held his hands up defensively, "It was just a slip of zhe hand..." In all honesty, it was hard to tell if the Frenchman was sincere, not below doing something along the lines of this in an attempt to save his boys from the future embarrassment of wearing such attire. He was also aware that the other's temper was most likely a result of worry for what it was that Matthew had been trying to tell him. From how Arthur had ranted and raved for a good twenty minutes afterwards concerning the phone call, it didn't seem to be good.

"Liar!"

Francis sighed and took the chance of moving forward yet again, this time wrapping his arms around Arthur's waist, ignoring the way the other seemed to stiffen. "I am truly sorry, mon cher...please forgive me..." as he murmured this, he tilted his head down and pressed a faint kiss to the Briton's neck, the stubble on his chin tickling the mans exposed skin just like he knew it would. "I'm sure we'll find a way to get rid of zhe stain, oui?"

"I think you mean _you'll_ find a way to get rid of the stains..." Arthur huffed, although he did not pull away and seemed to be finished with his bout of yelling.

"Oui, of course. _I'll_ find a way." the Frenchman quickly amended as he trailed light kisses further up the other's neck, lips soon ghosting over the shell of the Briton's ear, resulting in a small shiver to travel up the younger's back.

However, before things could get too far, a soft knock came from the door just a few feet from them, prompting Arthur to immediately spring away. "Check to see if that's Matthew." he grunted out as he made his way over to the chair, picking up the 'ruined' sweater carefully, "If it's him, I don't understand how he could have gotten here so soon..." he added in a slight mutter before disappearing into the bedroom area.

Unable to keep the soft, forlorn sigh from escaping him at being interrupted at such a time, Francis turned rather glumly to the door, making his way over and not bothering to check the peephole before opening it. His expression immediately brightened, "Ah, Mathieu! Come i-"

"A-Ah...Hel-lo, Papa..."

"..."

"N-Now...before you panic.."

"..."

"I can explain...s-sorta..." The Canadian felt his words soften and become meek at Francis's response...or well, lack there of.

"..."

"P-Papa...?"

"Oh, ce un mignon petit bébé!" Francis abruptly cried, forcefully pulling the surprised Canadian into the hotel room, "Arthur m'a dit qu'il y avait quelque chose de mal...mais c'est incroyable!"

"E-Eh? S-Savez-vous qui c'est...?"

"Bien sûr! Je pourrais reconnaître mon petit chouchou n'importe où!"

Matthew slowly relaxed, lips tugging in a hesitant smile as he bounced the child in his arms, who had been quietly staring at this new person with wide eyes. Now, Alfred lurched forward, babbling loudly as he demanded attention from said person, opening and closing his small hands repetitively. Without a second thought, Francis scooped the child up into his arms, cooing softly as he allowed Alfred to grasp his finger, using the end of said finger to lightly tickle the boy's tummy. Optimism increasing, the Canadian went over to a nearby armchair and set the diaperbag down, allowing Francis his little coofest.

The deaged American seemed quite pleased with the attention, squealing softly as he set to kicking his small feet about, as if in an attempt to free himself from the blanket his brother had cacooned him in. "Bah!"

"Oh, this is too precious..!" Francis crooned as he moved to the area of the hotel room that seemed to resemble a livingroom, sitting down slowly on the couch. Relief further flooded Matthew as he watched, leaning partly against the arm of the chair that he had set the diaperbag on.

Both failed to notice as the Briton reentered the room after having put away the ruined sweater, his step faltering as he attempted to comprehend just what exactly was happening in front of him.

"What..." for once, words seemed to fail the Englishman.

Two pairs of eyes snapped up to stare at Arthur, one panicked and the other reassuring.

"Now, Cher...Just take a deep breath..."

"A-Arthur...? Maybe you should sit do-..."

There was no mistaking it. Those large, enthusiastic, bright blue eyes. And even that damnable cowlick was present in the tuffs of wheat blonde hair that the baby in Francis's arms was sporting. This..._This_ was what was wrong...? Oh...oh...

The world tilted.

Oh, hello floor.

Francis blinked in surprise, although Matthews own shock was greater, "I-I didn't think he would faint!" the Canadian squeaked as he stared at the Englishman now laying on the carpeted ground. Appearing worried whilst Francis only heaved a dramatic sigh, Matthew straightened up and began to move the Englishman's unconscious form onto the carpeted area in front of the couch, prompting Francis to gently nudge the man with his shoe. "Mh...out cold." he noted, continuing to bounce the obliviously happy American in his arms.

"I hope he's alright..." Matthew said quietly, worrying his lower lip briefly as he decided to sit down on the floor beside his unconscious parental figure.

"He's fine, mon loutre." Francis was quick to reassure him, "he's just being a bit...dramatique"

"I hope he wakes up soon..."

"mh..." It was neither a sound of agreement nor dispute.

* * *

Arthur's vision was a bit foggy when he next opened his eyes, although it lasted just a few disorienting seconds. With a soft groan, the Brit slowly placed a hand to his forehead as he sat up, closing his eyes once more in discontent at the somewhat dizzy feeling that overcame him.

"Ah, look Alfred~ Daddy's awake..~" An obnoxiously familiar voice cooed somewhere above him, prompting him to open his eyes despite the discomfort and glare up, fearing what he would see. Which was a certain French git holding a happily gurgling baby...no...not just a baby, but _America._ The git in question was gently holding one of the American's wrists, forcing the child to wave a tiny hand at the Brit. Arthur trailed his fingers up to grip a few strands of his own hair, giving a stressed tug, "H-How..."

"We don't know..."

Arthur's view snapped to the right in search of the source of these words, seeing Matthew standing off to the side, the nip of a baby bottle pressed lightly to his wrist.

"What do you mean you _don't know?!_" The Englishman hissed, feeling his shock and confusion at this situation ebb to something along the lines of frustration bordering anger. "People don't just randomly turn to _infants_, Matthew!" Standing, Arthur dusted imaginary dust off the knees of his pants.

"I just found him at his house like this!" The Canadian stated rather defensively, voice soft despite the obvious bite to it.

"Is _this_ what you were alluding to when you called?!" Arthur abruptly shouted, needing some sort of outlet for what was happening, "Did you think saying 'something's wrong' and then hanging up was the right thing to do?! You were raised better than that!"

_"Arthur."_

Stiffening, the Briton huffed at the sharp tone used by the man on the couch. It only took a few seconds to realize what his shouting had prompted. Alfred's lower lip had set to quivering, little hands shaking as large eyes began to well up with tears. There was a soft, hitched inhale before the infant began to wail, starting off softly and then building in amplitude. Without thinking, Arthur moved forward and stared at the crying infant cautiously, as if asking permission, before he carefully took the American from Francis, who was staring at him rather disapprovingly for what had transpired in the last few seconds.

"Shh..." Seeing those tears...in such quantity on the boy's face...It pulled at his heart sharply, guilt and regret swarming together to such an extent that it made Arthur nearly choke. Alfred clutched onto a piece of Arthur's shirt, piercing wails slowly quieting once the yelling seemed to have disappeared, the slight lull of the Briton's shifting arms also a key factor. Although the baby boy continued to give an occasional sniffle. "There, there, poppet..."

Sighing softly, Arthur looked back to Matthew, who stood silently in the same spot. "I'm sorry..." he apologized almost quietly, "I just...I saw him just last week...he was normal.." he glanced back down at the slightly pink face of the child, using the sleeve of his shirt to gently wipe cheeks that glistened with the remains of tears, "or atleast..normal for him."

"It's fine..." Matthew smiled faintly and shook his head. Well, he hadn't exactly expected it to go smoothly, so this was better than what he'd imagined. Which had been much worse. "Here, he's probably hungry by now." With that, the Canadian handed Arthur the bottle.

Arthur hesitated before accepting it, slowly going over to sit beside Francis as he made sure to carefully cradle Alfred's head with his arm. The baby had caught sight of the bottle and had begun wriggling, making soft whining noises as he reached his hands up, making grabby fists in the direction of it. Indulgently chuckling, Arthur lowered the bottle to be within reach of the tiny American, watching as the boy latched on and began drinking with gusto.

"Well it seems his appetite hasn't diminished by much..." Arthur murmured in one of his rare attempts at lightening a situation, forced to tilt the bottle away slightly in an attempt to keep Alfred from drinking too fast. The last thing they needed was for the infant to choke.

Matthew chuckled softly with a faint smile as he shifted the babybag onto the floor and took the seat that it once occupied.

"Angleterre..."

"hm..?" Glancing up briefly from his task, Arthur arched one of his bushy eyebrows at the Frenchman.

"You said that Amérique visited you recently, oui? What exactly happened?"

Turning more of his attention to Francis, the Briton narrowed his eyes till their green coloring was barely visibly, "Just what exactly are you insinuating, Frog?"

Francis immediately found himself rolling his eyes at the Englishman's extremely defensive response, "You know exactly what I'm insinuating. Is it possible zhat something happened there zhat could have resulted in...zhis?" He then gestured to the de-aged American, who was beginning to fuss as a result of Arthur subconsciously moving the bottle a little too far away. The Brit quickly moved the bottle closer to continue feeding the little one, turning his gaze away from Francis's as his lips pursed in thought.

"It's...possible..."

"What's possible?" Matthew cautiously inquired in his soft voice, moving over to sit down so that he was perched on the edge of the coffee table, facing the two other adult nations.

"He was just being so irritating..."

"Arthur, what did you do?" Francis demanded, leaning forward and turning his head in an attempt to make eye contact with the Brit.

"And I had to shut him up somehow..." Arthur continued to defend, managing to irritate the Frenchman somewhat with how he was avoiding the crux of the matter. However, Francis managed to remain composed as he simply waited for the Englishman to hopefully answer his inquiry.

"I was swamped with paperwork and he was just being so bloody energetic..." Arthur trailed off once more, lips compressing into a thin line as he further tilted the bottle up to help Alfred continue eating, "So I tried to keep him occupied with some tea and cakes whilst I was getting work done...and I slipped some sleeping draught I concocted into his tea.."

"What?!"

The loud shout came from not Francis, but Matthew, who had jolted to a standing position, "You drugged him?!" Surprisingly, the Canadian's angered voice didn't provoke any tears from the still feeding infant; most likely as a result of the fact that the bottle provided a pleasant distraction from whatever it was the adults were yammering about. Food was definitely a good way to keep the little American's attention.

"Calm down, Mathieu..." Francis murmured soothingly as he stood and slowly managed to coax Matthew back into a sitting position. Although the Canadian still leveled the now silent Englishman with an accusatory gaze, lilac eyes nearly blazing. "Zhe real issue here is zhat it's something he made..." Sitting back down as well, Francis frowned at Arthur, "What happened when you gave him zhe drought...or, well, you may as well call it for what it was...a potion." The Frenchman nearly spat out the last word with abrupt contempt, staring intently at Arthur.

Arthur managed to level a small glare at Francis before grunting and shifting the bundle in his arms slightly, "My potions are the most efficient ones there are." He proclaimed with some irritation, "Any side effects are simply because of how it reacted with his body."

Francis made a sound of disagreement in the back of his throat, almost a scoff as he crossed his arms. He knew very well that nowadays his lover's touch for magic was more often than not...less than perfect. "And it worked..." Arthur continued, "He ended up falling asleep on the divan near the window and an hour or so later he woke up, complaining about his stomach aching.." Now the Englishman's bushy eyebrows began to furrow, lips creasing into an even thinner line, "So he decided it would be best to leave before he...ah...as he so eloquently put it, 'blew chunks'."

"Perhaps it was a result of you giving him one of your...'cakes'." Francis couldn't help but suggest, unable to resist a jab at the other's cooking abilities. It wasn't that English food wasn't decent, despite being rather bland in most cases; it was just that Arthur Kirkland was not very skilled in the kitchen.

Arthur sent a hardened glare over at Francis for the remark, making it clear what he would do to the other if he didn't currently have his arms occupied. "I figured he'd gorged himself a bit too much on my wonderful cooking, and combined with the potion his stomach may have been unsettled." He stated firmly before his attention was drawn downward by a faint noise. Alfred's mouth was lazily working around the nip of the bottle as he pressed a hand lightly against the side of it. It was obvious that even with the narrow necked container now empty, the child still wanted to keep in motion. Wordlessly, Arthur set the empty bottle on the coffee table beside Matthew before shifting the recently fed child up onto his shoulder, hand moving to rub Alfred's back in slow, soothing circles.

"Well, obviously not." Francis huffed as he reached over and attempted to gently smooth some of the de-aged American's tuffs of hair.

"Shut it, Frog. I've heard enough out of you." The Brit growled, the slight rumbling in his chest causing the child resting against his shoulder to giggle quietly. Said child then set to gurgling somewhat as he wriggled, pressing one small fist to his mouth and drooling on it. Trying not to look too amused, Arthur set to lightly patting Alfred's back, soon turning his gaze up to look at Matthew, who still didn't look too pleased with the Englishman.

"I know you're cross with me, Matthew. But there's nothing that can be done about it until I take a look at my books.." Arthur stated, referring to his fairly old journals in which he recorded and altered spells. "For the time being we sho-" The Brit abruptly stiffened and his lips quirked as he attempted not to grimace, a faint burp reaching his ears, followed by a content giggle. Turning his head slightly, he tried to get a proper look at his shoulder, shifting the cooing infant off of it. "Oh, bugger..." He murmured, although not without fondness. There was no mistaking the wet substance for anything other than spit up.

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**A/N:** A bit longer than the previous two, but i'm content.

Thank you, _Sacaly Amroma_, for your offer to help me with when they're speaking French. If you see any problems with the translations, please let me know!

Also, don't worry, _SiriusDancer_ , I share the same headcannon. :3

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_Oh, ce un mignon petit bébé! _\- "Oh, What a cute little baby!"

_Arthur m'a dit qu'il y avait quelque chose de mal...mais c'est incroyable_ \- "Arthur told me that there was something wrong ... but this is amazing!"

_E-Eh? S-Savez-vous qui c'est? -_ "E-Eh? D-Do you know who this is?"

_Bien sûr! Je pourrais reconnaître mon petit chouchou n'importe où -_ "Of course! I could recognize my little darling anywhere"

_Mon Loutre - "_My otter" ((I believe it's a term of endearment.))

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I love feedback from you guys, as well as hearing what you think is going to happen next. Once again, I'll update after a certain number of feedback from you guys, as i'm already working on the next chapter :) Till then~!


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